


A Reprieve

by CoinofStone



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boys Kissing, Case Fic, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Hot Tub, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs, M/M, My First Fanfic, No Sex, Post-Episode: s13e23 Let the Good Times Roll, Prompt Fic, Season/Series 13 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-07-05 19:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15870654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoinofStone/pseuds/CoinofStone
Summary: Dean takes on a case for an old acquaintance in the Pacific Northwest. Castiel goes with him just in case it's not as cut and dry as Dean thinks it will be. They indulge in the use of the upscale property's facilities, and make the most of their time away from the crowded bunker.





	A Reprieve

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on a photo prompt (included at the end) by the inimitable [palominopup](https://archiveofourown.org/users/palominopup) in her FB group. I cannot possibly adequately express my gratitude for all the encouragement and support in that wonderful community. Go check out[ Guarding Castiel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14863946) and obsess over it with me :D  
> And my eternal thanks to [EllenOfOz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/) for beta-ing this work for me. This work benefited _greatly_ from her input, and _you_ will benefit greatly from checking out her newest work, [Undercover Angel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15813951), so go do that. 
> 
> This fic is marked canon divergent as it includes some elements of the last episode of S13, while completely ignoring others. Specifically, no Michael!Dean, no mention of Lucifer though it is briefly mentioned in passing that Jack is without his grace, and the bunker is full of AW hunters. 
> 
> This is my first fic _ever_ , so please be gentle. That said, feel free to point out any glaring errors or inconsistencies. I promise I won't bite.
> 
> * * *

Dean didn't want to take this case. Oregon is a looooong fuckin’ drive from Kansas, and they've got enough shit going on with a bunker full of AW hunters and a de-graced nephilim. But he got the call from Jerry Panowski, who'd apparently done very well for himself in the decade plus since Dean saw him last. He's the proud owner of a luxury vacation cabin, which is apparently haunted. What is it with this guy and haunted properties? Anyway, he called Dean, desperate because his little girl is scheduled to be married at that house in just two weeks' time, and he's only now realized the place is frickin' haunted. Dean tries not to think about the fact that he saved that little girl's life when Sam was away at Stanford, and now she's getting married.

Dean had tried to tell him no, suggested he would find another hunter to call him—but Jerry insisted, not only on Dean taking the case himself, but taking a _very_ generous sum as payment. Dean is generally opposed to taking money from the people he helps, the family business not being particularly business-y that way, but that was before he had a few dozen AW refugees without social security numbers living in his bunker, needing to be fed and clothed and the like. Besides, this is Jerry's third round, and he was pretty insistent.

He has every intention of taking this case on by himself, the long drive and the time away sounding a little more enticing each time he thinks about it. Plus, someone has to stay behind and keep an eye on things, and Sam seems to have stepped into that leadership role nicely, all on his own. He could've asked his mom, or one of the new guys, but he isn't really interested in taking such a long trip with any of them just yet. And Cas, well, there's no way he'll leave Jack right now. Or so Dean thought.

Cas plunks a bag down on the garage floor and flatly states, "I'm coming with you."  
"What?" Dean replies intelligently, looking up from under Baby's hood, where he’s running through some quick maintenance in preparation for the miles he’s about to put on her.  Cas is standing resolutely to his right, looking for all the world like he’s expecting a fight and is prepared to win it.  
"To Oregon. Sam said you picked up a case, which appears to be a new haunting. He also said you were planning on going alone."  
"Just a ghost, Cas. Besides, it's a long trip, be gone at least a week, probably closer to two. Gotta leave someone in charge around here."  
"Dean, it may not be 'just a ghost'." Yep, finger quotes. "The fabric of Heaven is being stretched so thin there's every possibility that new, sudden hauntings like this are in fact displaced souls that have slipped through the veil and are desperate to get back."  
Dean hates to admit it, but Cas has a point. A point which he hadn't considered.  
"What about Jack?"  
"Jack is too weak for this trip, Dean." Cas tilts his head at Dean in that adorable way of his, and Dean feels warmth start to spread in his chest at the sight of the familiar gesture. He clears his throat before responding, hoping it clears his thoughts too.  
"No, I know that. I'm just surprised you'd be willing to leave him here on his own."  
"He's not on his own. He's got your brother, and your mother, and everyone else. He will be fine. This is a potentially very urgent matter, Dean."  
Slamming the hood shut, Dean turns to bodily face Cas while wiping his hands on a rag. He can't resist letting his eyes roam over the angel's figure—the way he stands so commanding and determined always makes Dean's imagination run a bit wild. Suddenly focused on his hands, Dean walks past Cas as casually as he can.  
"I'm just gonna hit the showers. Why don't you go pack some beers and sandwiches in a cooler? We leave in fifteen."  
  


* * *

  
It takes them three days to figure out that an antique vase purchased for the bridal table centerpiece was a haunted object. Some nasty old woman was now a nasty old ghost, attached to this vase she had apparently finished making just before her husband killed her. Dean couldn't tell if Cas was relieved or disappointed that it wasn't an escapee from Heaven. Still, he figures that the longer those walls stay intact, the better.

Usually, staying in a haunted residence while working a case is a bad idea, but there aren't exactly any motels nearby. And the urgency of the matter requires a quick response time to any activity, so Dean makes an exception. Besides, the place is lush.

They decide to stay an extra night to make absolutely certain they’ve cleared the house of all unwanted supernatural activity, even though they’re both confident they’re done there. Dean is enjoying a beer on the back patio and admiring the view when he remembers the hot tub near the cliff. When he had first seen it while inspecting the property, he wondered who the hell would want a hot tub on the edge of a cliff. Now, all he can think is how amazing a soak in a hot tub would feel after battling that damn ghost for three days straight. It doesn't take him long to figure out how to get it running, and to get the lanterns lit. Without giving it too much thought, he strips down to his boxers and slips in. He knows there are no neighbors around to see him in his skivvies—if anything he’s more concerned about another ghost showing up and catching him quite literally with his pants down.

What he certainly isn't expecting is Castiel to come walking up, stripped down to only his button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, bare feet sticking out beneath his trousers, holding a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses.

Dean's mouth waters at the sight of him.

Cas sets the bottle and glasses down next to Dean and gestures for him to, presumably, pour them both a glass while he starts undoing the buttons on his shirt. Dean just swallows hard and gets to work, his eyes fighting to steal glances at Cas confidently removing his clothes, like jumping into a hot tub in your underwear with your male best friend to have a glass of wine at sunset is no big deal.

As Cas relaxes into the tub next to Dean, he makes a little noise of pleasure that goes straight to Dean's dick. Thank god for the bubbles that are currently obscuring the water's surface. Dean hands Cas a glass of wine, wondering why Cas is going to drink it if it will only taste like molecules, and whether or not that’s something that’s changed since he came back from the Empty.

"It's a beautiful view," Cas remarks, shifting almost imperceptibly closer to Dean.  
"Yeah," Dean replies, taking a sip of the wine and realizing Cas must've lifted it from the bar supply for the wedding. He really is corrupting an angel. "Might as well enjoy it while we can. We better clear out of here at first light tomorrow. We've been gone longer that we should've been. I don't even wanna think about what kind of state the bunker is in, especially if Charlie and Rowena are back."

Dean can feel Cas's stare on the side of his face like a physical force. He slowly looks over to find Cas staring up at him with an expression Dean can't quite place—is that... longing? No, it can't be. Dean suddenly finds himself wondering if he’s said something wrong.

Rolling the glass gently between his hands, Cas seems to direct his question to the wine rather than Dean. "Do you really think we need to rush back? The bunker is pretty crowded, but Sam seems capable of handling it. I don't get the sense that it's an all hands situation right now. I thought you might've enjoyed the reprieve, actually. Not that a ghost haunting should be considered a reprieve..."

"Felt like one," Dean says before he can stop himself. And he should stop himself, before he goes and does or says something he can't take back. Something that'll make for an incredibly uncomfortable very long drive home. Maybe it's the wine, or the candles, or the beautiful view of the sunset, or the goddamn romantic-ass setting he's somehow found himself in while sitting in his underwear next to his equally undressed angel best friend. But Dean looks over at Castiel's face and licks his lips subconsciously. "Few days out here in the lap of luxury with you, ghost notwithstanding, felt like a reprieve."

Dean doesn't think he's imagining it when Cas's eyes flick down from his eyes to lips and back, but he _knows_ he's not imagining things when he feels Cas's hand on his knee, and hears the almost breathless, "Dean." So he leans toward Cas, just a bit, and Cas fumbles around behind him slightly to put the wine glass down before reaching over to take Dean’s face in his hand. Dean's heart is pounding, because there's no way this isn't happening. This fantasy that he'd held secret for so many years, suddenly on its way to becoming reality. He should be panicking. Every instinct in him is saying to pull away, laugh it off, slap Cas on the shoulder and call him ”bro”—but Dean's so tired. He's loved this man for so long, he's grieved his death more than once, but this last time... This last time was too much. He's tired of pretending. Of hiding. He wants this. He can't deny it anymore. Not when Cas is so close, and looking at him like that. Cas's hand guides his face closer, and in an instant their lips meet. Soft and gentle, warm from the water or the wine, maybe both. Then Cas's hand leaves his face to trail down his chest, finding his side and pulling him closer. Dean throws all caution to the wind and deepens the kiss, Cas opening up for him beautifully while Dean finally, _finally_ runs his hand through the soft hair at the back of Cas's head.

Breaking apart for air, Dean rests his forehead on Castiel's and whispers, "Maybe we should stay one more night. It's his kid's wedding, you know—best to be thorough."  
"Mmm, yes of course. Thorough," Cas replies, his eyes never leaving Dean's mouth before diving back in.  
  


* * *

  
When they make it back to the bunker a few days later everything is fine. Nothing is on fire, no evil spirits have been released, no apocalypses started. Dean has the crazy idea that maybe, just maybe, the world can survive without him for a week or two at a time. Sam is neck deep in paperwork, something about old Men of Letters safehouses and property deeds and identification documents—but he's got things under control, seemingly with a plan for all the people currently crammed into the bunker. Speaking of which, Dean's room managed to remain unoccupied during their absence, but Cas's was not so lucky. Probably because there's hardly any personal items in it, save for a few books and trinkets. Apparently the redheads took it over when they got back from their own trip. Cas is currently standing in the doorway being sassed by Rowena over an alarm clock shaped like a cartoon bee.

"Cas, just grab the rest of your stuff out of there. You can bunk with me for now," Dean says as he passes, pausing to look at the bee clock but not daring to glance at either of their faces. He doesn't have to see Rowena's smirk, he can practically hear it while he walks down the hall to his—their—room.

He's unplugging his own generic alarm clock when Cas walks in carrying a small box with a few items. Dean rather pointedly winds the cord around the clock in his hands and heads for the closet to stuff it on a shelf.

"Thank you for letting me stay here while the girls are occupying my room. I don't need much sleep, but it's nice to have a space to keep my things."

Dean walks over and takes the box out of Cas's hands to place it on the desk. They haven't talked about Oregon, but that didn't stop them from trading blow jobs at the wholly unnecessary stop they made just a few hours outside Lebanon. Crowding Cas back against the door, Dean reaches behind him and locks it, nosing at Cas's neck and leaving wet kisses on his pulse point.

"Stay with me," Dean says between kisses.  
"I will." Cas says it like a promise, his hands gripping Dean's hips like he has no intention of ever letting go. Dean hopes he doesn't.

  
  



End file.
